The wind of the fan cut forward, and the slash of the fan came later. The wind was hiding poison, and the blade of the fan was as sharp as knife. One in the dark, another in the open; one shapeless, one shaped; one real, the other fake.
Atobe was startled by this sudden aggression, and it was far too late for him to evade.
For Atobe, even if his instincts called him to evade the attack, his body was unable to follow up with that command. His physical reactions were too slow to catch up. The cutting wind from the fan slashed at Atobe. He only had enough time to raise both of his arms to block the imminent attack. With a whiplash, the wind from the fan hit Atobe's arms. At that second, Atobe felt a pushing impact coming from his forearms, and it pushed him slightly backward.
